


The Usual

by LorelaiGlisten



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Butt Plugs, Enemas, M/M, Massage, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorelaiGlisten/pseuds/LorelaiGlisten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Kink Me, Merlin! prompt: "Part of Arthur's cleansing ritual is for Merlin to give him an enema and to shave off all his hair. You know the usual"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Usual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Finally got around to writing this down! OP, thanks for the delicious prompt that has been fodder for many a go-to fantasy for a while now. Extra special thanks to the commenters on KMM who showed me I was not alone. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Notes for medical kink (enemas), unreliable narrator, anachronisms, medical inaccuracies, and complete inattention to show canon.**
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted here: <http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/19042.html?thread=34688354#t34688354>

As manservants went, Merlin was atrocious. And Arthur would know, considering that he had had more manservants than he could remember over the years. After his nannies had left, they all sort of blended. Certainly, Merlin had been with him the longest by far, but for what he made up for in quantity, he lacked in quality.

Perhaps it had simply been that no manservant had stayed with Arthur long enough to run out of the energy he demanded of them... But no. Merlin had been useless from the start.

He balked at orders, and when given a skilled supervisor to teach him the ways of a servant it seemed as though he dug in his heels and did even more poorly on purpose. He bungled the table settings and never understood decorum and not once had packed a bag correctly for a morning’s ride. He managed the laundry only because it involved bringing it to the eminently skilled castle laundresses and forgetting it until another servant brought it back. Once, when Merlin had remembered, all of Arthur’s shirts had smelled mysteriously of roast meat for a fortnight.

There were only two things Merlin was good for, Arthur grumbled to himself, and they were managing to stay employed despite it all, and seeing to Arthur’s bath. In fact, with regard to the latter, Merlin positively excelled.

Perhaps, Arthur mused as he dismounted, waving absently at his retinue to deal with the horses, Merlin’s skill with bathing had to do with a lack of it as a youth. He seemed to consider it a privilege, unlike every other duty, and pursued its improvement independently of Arthur’s urging.

It had been a long tour of the western villages. Arthur felt the crunch of dirt inside his boots, the itch of his smalls beneath the layers of cloth and padding and mail, the grease of his hair. He had rinsed in rivers and taken advantage of pitchers in spare rooms, but the road did not provide the same level of thoroughness, nor the same equipment, as Merlin.

Arthur gave a perfunctory nod to him as Merlin trotted out to the courtyard behind the King and an array of concerned counselors. Merlin smiled, but Arthur was drawn to Uther’s concerned frown.

“My son, you’ve returned late. But with everyone in good health, I see?”

“Yes, Father. Gareth spied a stag. It seems he can butcher as well as shoot.” The venison had been welcome after two weeks of dried meat and simple village offerings. Gareth was proudly chiding a servant about the antlers at the courtyard entrance to the kitchens.

“Then the reports were unsubstantiated?” A counselor to the king’s left grumbled something in his ear. “You did find the woman, though, I take it?”

“She was nothing more than an herbwoman, Father. She offered us an array of forest mushrooms. It was a fine soup, my lord, but no potion.”

The witch had, in fact, had a number of luck charms hanging boldly in the unprotected windows of her hut, and the surrounding villagers had sworn far too vehemently as to her nonmagical nature to be entirely believed. But if she were powerful, and evil, would her neighbors have defended her so? Would she remain in a leaf-strewn hut, scrounging for fungus?

Arthur’s presence had been warning enough, and he had ridden home with no regrets, glad to have tracked the source of the rumors down and not have it end in blood.

It had just ended in dirt. And mud. Everywhere.

“Father, if I may, it has been a long ride, and I wish to retire. Might I have the privilege of dining with you in the morning?”

At the king’s nod, Arthur signaled to Merlin and strode into the castle. “Arthur, I’m glad she wasn’t-”

“Merlin. Did I speak to you first?”

Merlin stiffened up but did not break his stride. “No, but I just wanted to say that-”

“I did my job. Now it is time for you to do yours. You have everything you need?”

“Ah,” Merlin’s voice dropped in volume, “I will have to fetch more oil from the stores, if you require it.”

Arthur considered. The venison had been filling, but it hadn’t sat well on the ride back to the castle. “Yes, I will require it. And everything else.”

The hiss of Merlin’s indrawn breath made Arthur pause. “Sure, yes, I’ll just go now, then, and, wait would you like chamomile? Because there’s just lavender in your chambers, and I know how you--”

The rambling was getting intolerable. “Merlin! Use what little mind you possess and figure it out. I just want, you know, the usual.” He shooed Merlin out and settled gratefully onto the foot of his bed.

When he had learned he wasn’t to ride out with Arthur, Merlin had gone into what could only have been described as a strop. But he had been needed at the castle to help with the early harvest, and despite rumors to the contrary Arthur could put on his own trousers in the morning when he had to. Seeing to Arthur’s bath was something Merlin was proud of; it had been Arthur’s plan to request it no matter what, in order to hold off any residual whining that Merlin might have wanted to do. But Arthur found himself quite looking forward to it regardless. He removed his boots, wiggling his toes, waiting for Merlin to return.

But there was a knock at the door, not a grumble and shove, and it was just some boys with buckets of water. They hung them by the fire, dragged the tub into the middle of the room, and retreated without a word. At least Merlin had learned how to delegate tasks in pursuit of a superior bath.

It had begun with chamomile. They’d received far more of it than needed in a previous harvest, and one day after foolishly spurring his knights into fighting him three on one, Arthur had arrived in his chambers to a tub filled with floating yellow buds. Merlin had explained, with a put-upon air, that everybody knew chamomile would help relax and warm Arthur’s back, and if he knew what was good for him he would get into the bath before it went cold, flowers getting into crevices be damned.

It had worked. Arthur had fallen asleep in the strangely salty water, marvellously relaxed. He’d been so pleased that he forgave Merlin his insolence on the spot, and informed him that if he had any further ideas for improvement of his baths to do so freely. The next week Merlin arrived with a separate soap for Arthur’s hair, citing some bright-haired maid’s wisdom on the matter, and it had only escalated from there.

Merlin finally arrived, weighed down with his own buckets and a satchel. Into the tub he poured the contents of a parchment envelope. Something involving twigs. At this point, Arthur had stopped caring. The properties of herbs beyond their scent were irrelevant, as long as they worked, and Merlin’s mixtures always seemed to.

“Do you need me to unbuckle you?” Merlin asked, stopping between pouring buckets.

Arthur grunted and Merlin correctly interpreted it as a yes, coming immediately forward and kneeling in front of him. There was dirt caked onto metal, and Merlin had to scratch it clean. Arthur braced himself with a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing just a bit. He’d been brusque, before, for no good reason. It was good to see Merlin had been well while Arthur had been away. Merlin shrugged silently in response to his squeeze, and tutted at the mud. Once free of his jacket and belt, Arthur retreated behind the screen to shuck all the other layers. Merlin sometimes complained when Arthur watched him set things up. Claimed he didn’t care for all the scrutiny.

“Tub’s ready, Sire.”

The water was glistening with something, and on the top a mixture of chamomile and other things - twiggy things, no doubt - floated among the wisps of steam. Merlin was sitting patiently on a leather covered bench he had pulled away from the wall to the center of the room, holding a soft cloth. Arthur ignored the towel Merlin had draped over the screen for him, and walked across the room naked. He sunk immediately into the warmth, groaning without shame. Merlin chuckled, and after a minute he began to rub the cloth over Arthur’s shoulders, and using it to wet his hair.

Merlin asked quietly about the villages Arthur had seen, asking after leaders who had visited the castle or farmers who had brought squabbles to court in the past. Arthur, no longer surprised that Merlin would be able to remember such things, and not the proper way to hold a platter, shared with him what news he had.

There was a soap for his hair, that Merlin massaged gently into his scalp and kept from Arthur’s eyes with a careful palm along his brow. There was a soap to get the grit off, which smelled of walnuts and felt almost rough, and a soap that Merlin left to Arthur to use with a soft sponge, which smelled of cloves and oranges. Arthur smoothed it down his front, between his legs, behind his ears, while Merlin fussed behind him on the bench.

Arthur was brushing over his stubble, pushing it against the grain, when Merlin finished and came back to the front of the tub. “Your hands,” he said, holding out his own. Arthur hauled himself up to sitting, and Merlin grasped his fingers from the edge of the tub. He sat down cross-legged and leaned forward against the rim.

The fire crackled as Merlin cleaned beneath Arthur’s nails, and with a pair of small, fine clippers and a fine-gritted stone he trimmed and smoothed. He held Arthur’s fingers close to his face, paying closer attention to the whorl of Arthur’s fingerprints than he likely had any right to. Not that Arthur was complaining, especially when Merlin moved on to his feet, scrubbing a brush brusquely over his heel and the arch of his sole, prompting another groan.

When Merlin had first tried this, with the hands and feet, Arthur had felt he was being treated like a horse, and said as much. “Am I to be saddled next? Is there a bit and reins in your bag of tricks?” Merlin had retorted immediately, something about a bit not being a bad idea, but Arthur couldn’t argue the results. He never caught a ragged nail on any of his finery anymore, and the feeling of his feet being rubbed was not something he could turn down after discovering it. Merlin did not question when the next opportunity arose and Arthur offered his feet freely, dripping onto the rugs.

Merlin’s tongue poked out as he finished smoothing the nail on Arthur’s smallest toe. He patted the top of Arthur’s foot, brushed up to his ankle, and said “up we go,” as he stood.

The bench had appeared in Arthur’s room at some point but he didn’t know where it had come from, only that Merlin had hunted it down and rubbed oil into the leather until it had gleamed, ignoring other jobs in the meantime. It was wide and wholly without padding, and sat on squat carved wooden feet, but it was just the right length for Arthur to lean across with a cushion behind his head and his knees hanging off the edge. If only Merlin showed such tenacity in his other duties! 

Arthur supposed he was, at least, adequate at some of the subtler jobs of a manservant. Namely that of getting the gossip from those of similar station who came in service of their traveling masters. It was after one such visit that Merlin had suggested the bath extend beyond Arthur’s tub. “Lord Rience’s man asked for shaving soap from Gaius. Did you know he shaves Rience himself?”

Arthur knew that some men trusted their servants with a razor, but he’d never been comfortable with the idea. He was well capable of seeing to his own face when it was needed. Although, considering he had never seen a touch of stubble on Merlin, with such dark hair and such pale skin, Merlin must be relatively adept. And his voice had a note of eagerness in it, as though the idea of shaving Arthur was something seen as a treat. Perhaps he wished to prove his steady hands? Calm and willing after an excellent soak, Arthur had shrugged and gone with Merlin’s urging to tip back his chin.

It was only as the blade loomed towards his adam’s apple that Arthur thought to make a snide comment about Merlin’s desire to slit his throat with a viable excuse. “If you make me laugh again, Sire, this blade very well might slip!” he’d said, resettling onto his knees in an attempt to get the right angle. The next week, Merlin had found the bench, and matters of angle were resolved.

Arthur admitted, very silently and very privately, that the sensation of cradling his smoothed and cleaned palm with his smoothed and cleaned jaw during dull tax discussions had been a highlight of the following day.

Merlin brought the unused towel over to pat Arthur dry, and used a comb to settle Arthur’s hair as he sat on the bench. He always started with Arthur sitting up, standing between his open knees and using a brush to daub foam onto Arthur’s face. Responding to each tap of Merlin’s fingers, Arthur turned his face this way and that, the scrape of the blade across the planes of his cheeks and jaw the only sound to cut across their soft breathing.

They’d figured out that this part needed to be done without words, or the risk of laughter resulting in nicks was too great. To Merlin’s credit, he always kept the razor clean and sharp - it was only after one particularly hilarious evening that Arthur had found nicks above his lip, bleeding painlessly from tiny cuts made when his lip had curled back in a giggle mid-conversation. In the past year, Arthur’s bath had become far quieter. They talked of calm things, but mostly moved by rote. Merlin had developed it into such ritual that he only needed to tap or pat and Arthur would know what to do. At the end of a hard day, it was, although he would never say it out loud, invaluable not to be demanded to speak.

With a clean cloth, Merlin wiped off the extra foam. Arthur immediately brought a hand up to touch his smooth cheek. It was much better already, and so little area had been dealt with. Merlin picked up a cushion from the floor and placed it at one end of the bench. Arthur settled back with a contented sigh, letting his arms dangle off the sides. Merlin must have added wood to the fire when Arthur hadn’t been looking, because it was scrumptiously warm, and Merlin had taken off his jacket and scarf. He was barefoot, as well, toeing silently across the rugs to get another warmed bucket of water.

When Merlin returned, he worked suds across Arthur’s chest, swirling against the direction of hair, and down his stomach, following the trail of stubble. Arthur hadn’t been shaved since before he left, so the stubble was fairly long, and it hadn’t taken two days of riding for him to become aggrieved. Merlin had been right. Keeping smooth prevented chafing. He would have to ask Merlin to shave him more often, just to be sure he wasn’t caught out like that again. Arthur supposed he could have done it himself, but as Merlin curved the blade confidently around Arthur’s nipples, and along the curve of his stomach in time with his breath, he thought it might have been worth the wait anyway.

There was a tug on his left hand, and Arthur lifted his arm above his head so Merlin could shave the pit. He repeated this on the right, holding Arthur’s forearm with his free hand to rest against his chest each time.

It really had been just his face to begin with, but there had been a heatwave, and heat rash, and Merlin had arrived during the blissfully cool night with a salve and a suggestion. Arthur, having always hated when his hair got pinched in the folds and buckles of his clothing, figured it would be worth a try, and if not, it would grow back.

The same time Merlin had suggested he shave Arthur’s balls so as to better keep clean when camping, Arthur had planned on asking Merlin to continue down his legs. So it went, top to tail. The day after, Merlin always set out Arthur’s finer clothes, so as to better feel their softness against his skin. Arthur supposed, feeling quite amenable as he was with Merlin confidently working warm foam from his ankles up, that picking clothes was another duty at which Merlin was not the worst.

Arthur lifted each leg up in turn and propped it on the bench, so Merlin could work over the caps of his knees. He had been pleased at his idea to have his legs shaved, thinking he had come up with it entirely on his own. But Merlin had informed him, calmly and with an air of one who has known better for a while, that he’d been wondering if Arthur was going to ask any time soon. He figured, apparently, that if one was going to shave one bit, one might as well finish off the rest. Why only get the benefits on one part of the body?

Merlin moved up Arthur’s thighs, spreading them with a gentle tap to the inside of each. He worked with his head bent close, and Arthur could feel his breath gust out near his cock. It wasn’t uncommon for Arthur to get hard at this point. He’d seen very little shame in it. Everyone got hard sometimes, and when one was being attended to with such scrutiny it hardly seemed a surprise.

Tonight, though, Arthur stayed mostly soft as Merlin used short, curved flicks to work the stubble off from the inner crease where his thighs and crotch met. The energy simply wasn’t there. He watched as Merlin eyed his penis, and quirked a small smile up his body. Arthur snorted. If Merlin wanted to speculate as to his limp dick, he was free to do so, as long as he kept using his hands to pull the skin of Arthur’s balls taught and skim lightly over them with the blade, and to work in precise motions along the base of his shaft.

Merlin rubbing a warm damp cloth all down Arthur’s front brought him out of his momentary daze, and he noticed the lack of erection was no longer an issue. After the first time Merlin had shaved every part of Arthur below the ears, he had sat back and remarked with a smirk, “Your cock looks bigger. And I don’t just mean because of your hardon.”

Arthur supposed that a lack of obscuring hair likely did make for a more... concrete impression, as it were. But he had never been overly concerned with the size of his dick in the first place. He just liked the way it felt, the next morning, pulling on himself before Merlin arrived with breakfast, the direct sensation of his calluses on freshly shaved skin.

With a tug on his elbow, Arthur sat up and flipped over, scooting down the bench so he could rest his knees on the rug and his arse at the edge. He folded his arms beneath the cushion and rested his forehead on them, curving his back to give his erection a little room. He closed his eyes, content the moment he felt Merlin work the razor up the backs of his legs and along the curve of his arse. Merlin pulled apart Arthur’s cheeks, and with a clean blade, whisked away the bits of stubble around his hole. There was the swish and splash sound of the razor being cleaned and dried, and when Merlin returned, he ran a cloth everywhere he’d run a razor. He stopped at Arthur’s hole, and touched it lightly with a dry finger.

“Can I try something new tonight?” Merlin asked, not moving his finger. 

Arthur hummed in question. He’d been expecting the enema next, and wondered what could possibly come before it. “It depends, Merlin. Does something new involve anything that will keep me awake longer than usual?”

Merlin laughed, and rubbed his hands along Arthur’s bum and up his back. “No, no, it’s something to relax you more. To let you relax more than you otherwise might. During.”

“During?”

“The enema, Arthur.”

“Hrmm. Sounds like a good idea to me, then.” Arthur unfolded one arm from under his cushion and waved graciously. “Proceed with my blessing.”

When Merlin had first brought the clyster syringe to Arthur’s chambers, Arthur had worried that the nozzle tip wouldn’t fit. But Merlin had assured him that even ladies often handled it, and it would work wonderfully to clean him inside to match his outside. He’d managed it after a few moments of deep breathing, the warm greased point pressing steadily in.

Evidently “something new” involved Merlin’s fingers and Arthur’s hole. Arthur wondered, with one finger inside of him, what the point was. It was only a little bit larger than the nozzle of the syringe. But then, Merlin added a second finger, working them in slow, alternating strokes. Arthur hummed in satisfaction. It wasn’t like he’d never put his own fingers up his arse before, but having someone else’s, having Merlin’s, was a brand new sensation, one to be savored.

When Merlin added a third finger, he pumped a few times, and then held still, as though waiting for Arthur’s hole to give up squeezing around them. “Why on earth did you stop?” Arthur asked, petulant.

Merlin was breathing raggedly behind him. “I just need to...” There was a small groan and the fingers in Arthur’s hole wobbled a bit. “Here, got it.” Merlin pulled his fingers out and Arthur sighed at the loss, but stopped as something large and hard was pressed against his entrance.

It wasn’t Merlin’s cock, and to Arthur’s surprise, he found himself disappointed.

Merlin’s dry hand rested along the swell of Arthur’s arse as he pushed some sort of oiled wooden bung into him. It flared in size, and they both let out a small grunt as Merlin shoved it home and Arthur’s hole squeezed around its narrow neck, only stopped from taking it all the way in by an abruptly wider base.

“Is this some sort of... joke, Merlin?” Arthur turned his head and opened his eyes to look back him. Merlin looked a little bit wrecked, staring unabashedly at Arthur’s arse, at the plug sticking out of him.

At his words, Merlin snapped his head up. “N-No. It’s just, after, when you need to hold it in, this way, the work is done for you.”

Seeing the wisdom of this, Arthur relaxed, giving the plug a couple of squeezes. Merlin’s eyes snapped back to it. “I suppose that does make sense. Well, get on with it.” He lifted his arse a couple inches off the bench. His cock lifted too, making a slightly sticky noise as the tip came up off the leather.

“Of course.” Arthur heard the sounds of Merlin washing his hands clean of the oil used to stretch him, and the sounds of Merlin filling the clyster.

It was a large metal contraption, a huge syringe with a plunger. Arthur had had enemas when he was sick before, but not until Merlin had suggested they be used for cleanliness had he become so well acquainted with the object.

It was, as Merlin’s ideas went, pretty high up there. Arthur had realized, after the first one, that enemas were what had been missing. After being so well-cared for all over his outside, the idea of being similarly tidied and taken care of internally had great appeal. The next time Merlin had bathed him, Arthur was the one who had brought it up.

Merlin would put different things into him, depending on what was needed. Merlin always seemed to know. He came back and rested a warm hand on Arthur’s head, brushing back the drying hair. “This one’s with a little goat milk for calming, and a few other things to help with the meal. You and your knights need to learn how to cook properly. Have the kitchen give them lessons on a rainy day.” 

Arthur hummed his agreement, and wiggled his arse. Merlin clucked a bit and moved something from the base of the plug. If Arthur had been more awake, he would have had a moment of embarrassment as a little gas escaped what evidently was a newly opened hole, but there was little time for that. Merlin pressed the tip of the syringe in through the opening, and began slowly, slowly depressing the plunger.

Warm liquid seemingly rushed into Arthur, already primed open by the plug. It seemed both like it took forever and like it was going far too fast. His cock stiffened further as it churned against his prostate and the sensation of fullness steadily increased. He couldn’t help and didn’t try to hold in the increased volume of his breathing, gasping into the leather of the bench.

Merlin stopped, pushed on the plug again, and Arthur heard the sound of the clyster clunk against the floor. “Does it hurt?” he asked, running his palm along Arthur’s side, curving underneath him.

“No, I just need to... Ah!” Arthur hissed as a cramp hit him. It was just a small one, but the evening had been so relaxing up until that point that the contrast was strong. He curled over onto his side.

Merlin tutted, arranging Arthur’s legs so his knees were comfortably bent, and quietly massaged the small swell of Arthur’s smoothly shaved belly. He ignored Arthur’s half-hard cock, but gave his sac a few strokes, reaching from the base of the plug up between Arthur’s legs to fondle them. The feel of a hand on his abdomen and the other on his balls anchored Arthur and served to calm him immediately.

“There’s a bit more to go,” Merlin spoke into Arthur’s shoulder. “I’ve put the cork in you for now, but it would be best if I got the rest inside. Do you think you can do it?”

The cramp was nearly gone, and after a minute of matching his breathing to Merlin’s, Arthur smiled to himself, reaching down to pat Merlin’s hand on his belly. “Sure. Yes.” The room was still very warm, but Arthur couldn’t control a small shiver as Merlin released him to retrieve the syringe.

“Knees up,” he said, tapping the top of the bench. Arthur pulled his knees under him and lifted his bum into the air. The cork was removed and Arthur tilted up further, feeling the liquid inside of him trickle deeper, so as not to let anything out as Merlin lined up the nozzle again. At the touch of Merlin’s hand to the broad of Arthur’s thigh, he settled back down, feeling the weight of the syringe follow. “Starting again. Don’t hold it in if it hurts, all right? I have all night.”

Arthur gasped a bit as the still-warm liquid swirled into him, but grumbled soon after. “Well I don’t. I have to breakfast with Father, and for that I must sleep. You can’t keep me up all night this time.”

After too long a pause, Merlin said, “Well maybe next time, then.” Arthur chose not to respond, too many ideas taking form in his overtired mind to vocalize any of them.

Finally, it was done. The enema was entirely inside of Arthur. He squirmed, clenching around the plug as Merlin pushed the cork back into the nozzle-sized hole in its neck.

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur began as he rolled onto his back, “you were right.”

“Yes, generally I am,” Merlin was back by the fire, cleaning more things, “but what specifically this time?”

“Such cheek.” Arthur stretched his arms above his head, and then rubbed his hands down his smooth chest to lightly press at the swell behind his navel. “This, the, what do we call it, plug? Stopper? It is more relaxing. I don’t have to work to keep it in. Where did you come up with this?”

Back with a pot of something gold in one hand, Merlin smiled down at him. He used his free hand to press on the plug, making Arthur jump, if only a tiny bit. “Would you believe me if I said I spent the time you were away whittling it?” He dipped his fingers into the pot and worked the oil between his hands, and started rubbing teardrops up Arthur’s sternum, around his chest, and back down.

“If that’s what you’d like me to believe, right now? All right.” The oil on Arthur’s smooth skin felt tremendous, and he was disinclined to question anything Merlin might say at the moment. 

Merlin had probably gotten the idea, at least, from some visiting dignitary or another. The fact was, Arthur had very little experience with others of his own station. Asking after their way of life to the extent of how they saw to their ablutions would be seen as tremendously invasive. In fact, Arthur was grateful to Merlin, for being the first of his manservants to ever penetrate that wall, and bring these customs to him. It would have been seen as an admission of ignorance to admit it, but Arthur hadn’t known many of these practices existed until Merlin had brought them up. But they were all so wonderfully indulgent, surely every other prince with a servant as trustworthy as Merlin was requesting them as well.

He massaged the oil methodically onto Arthur’s front, working first his chest, then arms and legs, and very carefully his swollen belly and sides. Merlin paused at Arthur’s cock, which had been cheerfully hard the entire time, and gave it a cursory slick, dabbing at the moist head. Arthur found himself involuntarily lifting his hips into it, making him squeeze on the plug. When Merlin didn’t continue, Arthur sighed. His hole continued to suckle at the base of the plug, which had the effect of swishing the liquid inside of him a bit, which just made his cock leak more.

Merlin tapped Arthur’s side and he knew it was time to turn over again. He snugged his erection up between his belly and the leather of the bench, not caring about release so much as riding on the haze of pleasure for a little longer. Strong hands worked any remaining knots out of Arthur’s back and neck.

“Time to release. Over here.”

Arthur opened his eyes to see Merlin to his left with the chamber pot. He groaned, reluctant, but he could also feel it was definitely time for the enema to come out. Arthur propped himself up with arms grasping the bench, squatting over the pot, and allowed Merlin to pull out the plug in a swift motion.

It was different than without a plug, because then he had more control. This time, it came out in a rush, Arthur’s hole loose and relaxed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Don’t push,” Merlin chided, a hand on the back of Arthur’s neck. He breathed deeply, letting it come out naturally. Merlin always stayed close during this. Arthur had felt awkward, maybe a bit disgusting, at first. But Merlin had never given any indication that anything Arthur did disgusted him, and Arthur realized he wanted Merlin there, to feel his warmth behind him.

After what felt like a very long time, Merlin told Arthur he was empty, and he got back up onto the bench, face-down. With a warm wet cloth, Merlin dabbed Arthur’s hole completely clean.

“Arthur?” he asked, as a finger swiped soothing oil across the sensitive rim of his entrance, “Can I try something else new?”

Coming back down from the exertion of release, Arthur didn’t censor what he said next, which was, “Only if something else is your cock in my arse.”

When the only response was the removal of Merlin’s fingers, Arthur frowned. He’d made a huge mistake. It wasn’t normal, and Arthur had been too tired to care, but Merlin hadn’t been, and now everything was going to get incredibly strange and harrowingly awful. His bath-free future in a life without Merlin loomed in front of him.

Far too long later, Arthur felt lips press in, just behind his ear. If he had had hair on his body to stand up in alarm, it would have. Merlin was naked, and suddenly leaning all along Arthur’s back. He couldn’t help himself but crane his head around, to see Merlin standing back up and reaching for Arthur’s hand.

“Something new, then?” Merlin managed to ask. Arthur managed to nod, and was led to bed.

It was only after Merlin was already inside of him, thrusting from behind and giving long, asynchronous tugs to his cock, that Arthur laughed with realization. “You’re shaved too!” he crowed, entirely incongruous with the mood.

Merlin stopped, grunting with the effort of holding back. “Of course. Why would I do anything to you that I haven’t already decided was good?”

Arthur reached back and caught the meat of Merlin’s arse with a hand, pressing him closer. He brushed over a little bit of missed stubble under his thigh, just before Merlin groaned and resumed fucking Arthur into the sheets.

“You... Next time, I’ll do... Ah, yes, just there-” All conversation was held until Arthur had come neatly into the cup of Merlin’s hand, and a bit later Merlin had come neatly into the warmth of Arthur’s arse.

When Merlin came back wiping his palm clean with a cloth, Arthur grabbed for it and licked the vestiges of his own come from between Merlin’s fingers.

Seemingly stunned into silence, Merlin stood frozen, with one knee on the bed. Arthur dropped Merlin’s hand to his chest. “As I was saying. It’s likely tremendously inconvenient to see to all of that yourself.” Merlin nodded, and then seemed to remember where he was, and started kneeing forward to wipe between Arthur’s legs with the cloth. Arthur headed him off. “If you start up again, I really won’t ever get to sleep, I suspect.” He let himself yawn hugely. “Just get in.”

There was a small smile, and then Merlin fell forward into Arthur, pushing him around until they were both settled.

“So next time,” Arthur picked up, “I’ll just have to help you attend to yourself. Surely you will be able to use the extra time to both our advantage. A clyster can’t be easy to use on oneself, after all.”

Merlin pushed at Arthur again until he had him on his back, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Then, as though he had been the exhausted one all along, he began almost immediately to snore.

Arthur rolled out from under him and arranged Merlin’s arms around his waist, nosing into his neck. Perhaps if Merlin was properly motivated, he’d make an adequate manservant after all. Arthur reached around to his own arse, and gently fingered himself, feeling clean, smooth, oiled skin and Merlin’s come beginning to work its way out. A perfect addition to the usual, and brilliantly, it had all entirely been Arthur’s idea.


End file.
